


Adequately Thick

by peevee



Series: Bon Appétit [1]
Category: British Comedy RPF, The Great British Bake Off RPF
Genre: Flirting, M/M, Terrible Flapjacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24056536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peevee/pseuds/peevee
Summary: “Well, I like long walks on the beach, corduroy trousers, and crying while masturbating.”
Relationships: Paul Hollywood/James Acaster
Series: Bon Appétit [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985392
Comments: 28
Kudos: 67





	Adequately Thick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghoulkitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoulkitten/gifts).



> Listen, ghoulkitten sent me this clip of James Acaster on the celebrity Great British Bake Off:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AlGQYd6vUnI
> 
> And this fic happened in about 2 hours. Sorry to all involved.

Paul didn’t usually like to spend much time at the traditional post-filming pub trip (“It’s called a _wrap party_ , you know. For those of us born this century.” “Bugger off, Noel.”), preferring to stick to a quick round of back pats and vague platitudes for the unlucky runners up.

He wasn’t really sure why he was still here, nursing a pint of bitter against the bar and watching Sandi try to fit two whole limes into her mouth. Normally all he wanted after filming was blessed silence, a plate of roquefort and crackers and a robust glass of merlot. Maybe an episode of Top Gear or two. But here he was, with a tepid glass of mediocre beer and a packet of overly salted peanuts, all because James Acaster had lolloped over to him at the end of filming and said, in a hopeful sort of voice, “Pub?”

He also wasn’t really sure why that had been such a compelling invitation, given the amount of sass he’d been given all afternoon. Paul didn’t like _sass_. It was irritating, and usually came from contestants who were trying to win him over by distracting him from their terrible baking. Although, he supposed, there wasn’t enough sass in the world to distract anyone from how terrible James’ baking was. 

“I’m still waiting for that handshake, you know.”

“Hello, James.”

“Now now, I know it’s because you don’t want the other contestants to be jealous, but they’re not looking. We can be quick. Sneak one in before anyone turns around.” 

Paul smirked into his beer unwillingly. 

“Tell me honestly, now that the cameras are gone. Those were the best flapjacks you’ve ever had, weren’t they?”

“They weren’t the worst.”

“‘Gorgeous’, you said. ‘Absolutely gorgeous’. Unless,” he leaned forward, elbow planted on the bar, other hand on his hip in some sort of strange parody of a casual lean, “you weren’t talking about the flapjacks.”

Paul raised his eyebrows and took a long drink.

“Eh? Eh?”

“The cherries were very nice,” said Paul, charitably. 

“So’s mine, if you know what I mean. Sorry. Too far? I’ve had a few more of these than usual.” James brandished his gin and tonic in explanation. “Not really slept, either. That might’ve had a hand in the quality of the baking, now I think about it.”

“I see. With eight hours of sleep you’d have knocked it out of the park, is that it?” 

“Precisely. I’m off my game, Paul. I’m glad you understand. At my full strength I’d be too powerful, I needed to give this lot something to work with, so they wouldn’t be put to shame.”

“Very noble of you.”

“I’m a very noble person. I’m glad we’re learning more about each other.” James paused to take a long, loud slurp of gin through the tiny straw. He stepped a little closer to let someone get to the bar; he was quite tall, Paul noticed, when he wasn’t hunched over a bench. Then he noticed himself noticing, and gave himself a little mental shake. 

“So, _Paul_ ,” James said, like he was on a panel show. “I heard you like driving tiny little cars very fast. What’s that like, then?”

“Uh,” said Paul, “It’s very nice, thank you.”

“‘Nice’, eh? Wow. Sign me up for the thrill-fest!”

“Oh, bugger off. What are your hobbies, then?”

“Well, I like long walks on the beach, corduroy trousers, and crying while masturbating.”

Paul choked on his mouthful of beer, which had obviously been James’ aim; the smug little git was trying not to laugh.

“Do you ever stop?”

“Crying? Masturbating? No to both, actually. I’m dead inside and I’m always randy. Ooh! That’s a good one, I’ll put that on my Tinder profile.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone under the age of fifty say ‘randy’”

“You’re right, it jars with my very cool and hip image. What does yours say?”

“What does my what say?”

“Your fuck app. Tinder? SilverSingles?”

“My _fuck app?_ And wait, how do you know about SilverSingles?”

“I looked it up for a bit in my last Edinburgh show. ‘Meet someone special’,” he paused to wiggle his eyebrows outrageously, “‘in the _prime_ of your life!’ Is it really the prime though? Surely us virile youths in our early thirties are in our prime. A prime cut of meat, that’s me. You’re more like,” he gave Paul a considering look up and down, “aged beef. That fancy, expensive stuff that costs a hundred pound for a steak, though.”

“You’re very cheeky.”

“You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re very virile.”

Paul wasn’t sure how they’d ended up here. He didn’t normally let this sort of conversation continue, would roll his eyes and shut down anyone who started to flirt a little too intently, but he was, he realised, having too much fun to stop James from talking. He stepped a little closer, nudged one of his feet against James' on the sticky floor. James glanced down then back up, and grinned widely.

“Oh yeah?” he said. “That’s good, I thought maybe I wasn’t laying it on thick enough.”

“Oh, it’s definitely adequately thick,” Paul assured him, putting his pint glass down on the bar. “Unlike your flapjacks.”

“A low blow.”

“Well, you can give me one back, if you really want.”

“Mister Hollywood, you incorrigible flirt,” said James, leaning closer still. “Mine or yours?”

**Author's Note:**

> AND THEN THEY FUCKED. The end.


End file.
